Daimah in the Rough
by BeastOfTheSeasons
Summary: In the world of Gaia, things are moving. Life itself is at peril for all beings, be they human or otherwise, and there is one group out to save the world from Mages and the total down fall of the world. Pulled along on this journey, however, is Shion, someone only trying to pay back the kindness she was once shown. This is her tale.
1. Why Do We Have to Save the World?

Heeled feet tread lightly over the cobbles of the city as Shion walked along a burned man. Well, from what everyone had been telling her, that was past tense, but she could still see wrinkles and angry red puckers of fire-kissed skin. Used to be burnt, used to be out for himself. Used to be happy?

No, that last wasn't meant towards him. She was projecting again, as she kept finding herself in the habit of doing with this motley crew. "Irregulars", the Companions Guild called the handful of benders. She couldn't help but agree. All of the people she'd been travelling with for the past week or two were just that. That didn't make them unpleasant to say the least. In fact, even the fire bender that walked with a cadence that still hinted at his Abel lineage had been mostly polite to her - even if he was a little bit bossy.

The only reason she was even here was because of what she was guessing was a pity move on the part of a light elemental who seemed to like her a little bit. Lothair. Best buddy to Ryo Takeshi (the nice one, not the evil overlord), cute little owl full of information that the Daimah wasn't sure she wanted to comprehend. Then again, there were a lot of things that she'd  
learned in the past two weeks that she knew she didn't _want_ to comprehend, but she was stuck with the knowledge now.

Void magic, for example. Why would she even need to know it? Yes, knowing of it could really save her in a fire fight, or if she needed to run from it knowing what to expect pursuing her, but she'd never be able to manipulate it. It took a master Mage with about 12 other people fused together to even think of the concept. And, as literally everyone with power was having fun telling her every chance they got, she wasn't a very strong mage.

She wasn't a very strong anything. Her Ki was weak, her Zeon reserves weak, her mastery over psychic was weak. Hells, she wasn't even a master of the Selene art. The only things she could do were talk really nice and sneak into places she didn't belong.

 _'If you could just focus more, you might actually have been a good assassin,'_ she heard the mocking voice of Khali the Executioner tell her, the blindfold wrapped around Shion's eyes giving her no information as random sparks of pain dotted her vision. If only she could have fought back, cut those leather straps holding her down sooner, she would have shown Khali who was an assassin and who was worthless.

Who was she kidding? She knew Khali would have whipped her into the dust. And the fact that something like that boiled Shion's blood in not only hate, but lust, disgusted her. Most of the time, her promiscuity was chalked up to a job, or boredom, but every once in awhile, knowing someone that could thoroughly dominate her...that riled her.

Hence one of the reasons she was so attracted to her lovely travelling companion, Mr. Smoke Bender Giatsu. The things she had seen him do would be so delicious that she would be whimpering for days, of that she was sure. Despite her current parties' notions, however, her attraction to the older man wasn't just one of the physical, nor was is just a case of puppy love. No. Her love was deeper, more passionate, and not even entirely directed at Giatsu himself.

Her passion was directed at his beliefs, his drive. She'd hit it off with him when she first met him all of those years ago on La Dama, flipping up girls skirts and drinking some nicely spiced rum, but that was back when she was married, a mother, somewhat happy. Ever since La Dama, her life had gotten worse and worse. Everything she knew she questioned, every arrogance she had tested, and everything had failed her.

Everything except for Giatsu and his ideals. And, to be fair, Nice Ryo and his crew had always been nice to her too, but where they had provided mercy, Giatsu provided her the passive learning in silence and the warm affection - if not love - that she needed.

He was kind, but crass. If something needed to be done, it needed to be done. He helped people, but if they deserved a punishing, they would get it. Though he didn't strictly follow her belief that everyone deserves a second chance (which is the decision that had gotten her husband killed and her daughter...captured,) he still embodied it. Not to mention he had a mission to live for. Meaning. Propagate more Airbenders, protect and teach the Avatar. It was something Shion didn't have anymore. It wasn't a pitiable thing; her life just wasn't useful to anyone in particular in the big picture. Still, she knew it wasn't something that should go wasted. Everyone deserved a second chance. Including herself. She very adamantly believed that.

Was belief just another word for heedless determination? Probably. But curse the Creator, she was going to find a reason to live, and so far it had been to live up to the morally-questionable ideals of a man who had let her travel with him, no questions asked. He had always been interesting like that, at least to her - someone who, like her, had asked questions and had lost something because of it. Giatsu had lost brothers and sister monks and his voice, Shion had lost family, and both were on the prowl to help in any way they could...

...even if they didn't like being dragged into this little escapade that she was currently embarking on. Thus her thoughts were brought back to the present. Senses she had ignored while she thought slowly came back into focus. Oxen and sheep begging for meals; people chattering away as the sun began to dip behind mountains; pinpricks of light that came with lanterns lighting the path as she and her fiery acquaintance walked it. Crowds moved around her, the mesh and slide of bodies around her a home away from her home's home.

Dainty eyebrows furrowed under her sunlight-colored bangs. She missed the Ilmora of her childhood. She even missed the sanctified training halls on the unmapped island of Selene, pride and hurt notwithstanding. At the end of it all, the place she missed most of all was the tiny little cottage with wooden floors on the outskirts of Gabriel that her family had lived in.

With the slightest of nods, her mind was made up. She would have to settle for crowds being her home. A slight roll of yellow eyes accompanied the thought. She'd been having to settle for quite a lot, most of all her travelling companions, though she was coming to terms with the latter. She'd actually made what she could consider at least tentative friends with the tiny Avatar (Kit-Ling liked to trigger the mom instincts in her), a funny little plant on the Ibarra, and she had Isamu too. And of course the sneaky one who was way better than her operations-wise (though Shion's pride would never let her admit it). It made her laugh that the grey-skin was somehow so ignorant of the shadows she was born into.

The firebender (' _Sai. His name is Sai.'_ Damn was she bad with names) was alright. She still thought he was Satan, but he was a fairly nice Satan, so she could live with that. And with the Ja'yan actually calling Shion by her name now, she could see them probably being friends. It depended on how (' _What was HER name again? It was like someone was sending postage...Oh yeah!'_ ) Mei-lin played her cards. She'd already started off with several bad hands, and her poker face wasn't a very good one.

That didn't matter though. What mattered was the mission to get Ghost back. Shion owed Ghost, and right now, that was her meaning in life. She'd figure out the particulars later. After all, adapting to her situation in life was the one thing she did at least somewhat adeptly.


	2. Pur-fectly Horrible Beginnings

Mama. Mama was warm and light and all the good stuff in the world. Her and her little family ran an inn along the trade road in the Forest of Zulan, right near the exit leading to the city. Papa and Mama were both very proud of their artistic backgrounds; well-crafted sculptures lined the walkways up to their inn, _The Season's Song._ People loved the food that Mama made and the music Papa played at all of the meals, and the eccentric little family that loved cat ears so much that everyone that worked for the inn wore them was gaining popularity with every year that passed. They always had the richest vegetables and the prettiest flower arrangements, but that was because Mama was the Lady of the Seasons.

The Lady was a title passed on from mother to daughter for as long as the dress they wore had existed, and it was the Lady's job to provide in the way only the Season's could. Each Lady was, in turn, the season they were born into; Shion herself would be the Winter Lady after her Mama's Fall Season ended. Shion never really got to know the specifics, but she knew that the dress was supposed to be "a reflection of the Season of the Lady". Unbeknownst to the Daimah at the time, that was the reason why her mother was so good at growing and harvesting food, even when it was out of season.

Regardless, it was the Lady's job to provide. There wasn't a moment that Shion couldn't remember her mother going out of her way to help a stranger, be a wonderful hostess to her guests, or even take in an animal dying or left behind because of a neglectful master. Both Daphne and Svent Titus were kind people with large hearts, healers, nurturers and Essence mages by nature. These traits did not help them, however, when Shion woke to find her father's corpse half-slumped in her doorway, her mother's dress draped over her like a blanket, and a lady with a dripping blade at her bedside.

It was in this way that young Shion was inducted into the Order of Selene, carrying naught but her mother's clothes and Stuffles the stuffed rabbit. The girl was never told what contract was made by whom to kill her parents. There was a time in her early teenage years when she asked a Matron exactly that, but she was met only with a stony gaze and the words that would be her mantra for her formative years, "We kill for money, not revenge. Let it go."

That was what she told herself when contracted to make her first kill, Liandre. Her first girlfriend and foray into the world of pleasures. Liandre had found a lover outside of the Order and had attempted to abandon the Sisterhood without her dues paid. As Shion knew the target better than anyone, it had been her job to search and destroy. Khali had made it very clear what the punishment for failure was, and with a heavy heart, Shion had set to the task.

It was only after she saw her girlfriend and her girlfriend's male lover dead that she felt any remorse. She had been angry when she had heard the news; vengeful when she adopted the contract; Then morosely mournful. 13-years-old and finally into the world of assassination, the only thing that kept her from having nightmares every night were the words of the surley matron. Let it go.

Shion would never let it go fully. Reminders were needed to never repeat mistakes - mistakes that an assassin couldn't afford to have. So with every kill, from that very day, Shion made a braid in her hair to remind her of exactly what she had done. Her first girlfriend, a kindly old man that had gotten just a little too influential, all of them got a braid on the right side of her head. Over two thirds of her kills deserved what they got, to be fair - rich bachelors who were conducting shady dealings with people like the Black Sun, necromancers and mages who actually wrought havoc on populaces. But it was that that remaining one third that kept her up at night.

Eventually, people started coming for her. Inquisitors who recognized the signs of the Sisterhood sometimes tried to shake her loose the mortal coil, mages who knew of the threat dressed in braids. It didn't happen often, truth be told, but often enough for her to be saddened. Her dreams already danced with the dead, why did these people need to remind her? Bitterness started to seep into her being the day she met the man of her dreams: Sebastian the "Wetboy", the only man in her life that had held a knife to her throat and survived.

She had been on a contract in Kanon when she met him. She was walking the streets, hood up and dressed in her mother's best, the legacy of the Lady lost with her occupation in life. He was dressed like a knight, and for all intents and purposes he was, at least to the guards who didn't realize their comrade was dead. He had confronted her on the street and invited her back to his room, where she playfully agreed to a night of Curs and Inquisition.

That night was much more heated than she anticipated as she obtained several slash marks to her arms, a beautiful little bruise around her neck, and a chip from Sebastian's blade when she cracked it on the marble nightstand, along with several bones in his hand and his cute, inflated, and somewhat-earned sense of manly pride. After the fight and several hours after of vicious love-making, he explained where he was from, who sent him, why his breath smelled so heavily of garlic ("A bad clove-chewing habit" was no excuse - the pungency could kill a dragon and he needed to stop that immediately) and the insignificant detail of her having killed his father.

That was a problem. She had fallen head over tail for him that night and resolved to marry him when she could pay her dues to the Sisterhood. He resolved, through a lump in his manly throat, to kill her the next time they met. She, in response, had flirtatiously noted that he wasn't going to kill anyone shackled to a bed like that before hopping out a window and out of his life for another two months.

The game of Daimah and mouse was intoxicating. Whenever she wasn't on contract, she made it her obligation to hunt him down and almost be killed by him. After a year, he was letting her find him. After two, they stopped trying to kill each other out of malice and made it merely a habitual sport. In the third year, when she was 25, they were married. They couldn't settle permanently, not until her dues were paid, but they could at least start the process of having a life together. They bought a cottage several miles outside of La Roche and would spend any time they had together, fighting and learning each other's styles, trying to kill each other like they always had. At the age of 26 she gave birth to a bright-eyed little Daimah girl.

And a few years later life started to fall apart.


	3. Seasonal Blues

Whispers began to spread that Shion was the Lady of the Seasons the year her daughter turned four. One of her sisters had found her mother's diary for sale in a Thieves Guild and the young assassin's name was mentioned several times. Yes, Shion had a new last name now - she didn't even know what her old one was, she had been so young - but the descriptions of the dress were dead on, her homeland, the name of her inn. It was all in there.

It was a tragedy that the diary was soon lost after Serena, the blabbermouth sister in question, died. Shion had wanted to recover the diary, her Gods-damned birthright, but it had gone up in flames with Serena's body. The loss was a huge hit to her pride; How dare that bitch go and let the rightful Lady's legacy go up in flames? This information was learned shortly after her meeting her flirtationship partner Giatsu, getting thoroughly wasted on the blood of attackers on La Dama.

Oh, and all of the booze and panties. It would be bad to forget the booze and panties.

Panties aside, she had spent at least a week hiding in the mountains of that odd island, desperately trying to find a way off without shredding herself into fifty-million pieces while going through the barrier around it. Giatsu, the poor soul, had gotten trapped with her, and both soon learned there was naught to do but settle in and wait for the storm to pass, as it were. Days past like slugs when, near the last day of their self-imposed exile, they felt large surges of power coming from near the south of the island.

At that point in time, though, there wasn't anything they could do there, either. All had finished and they watched as the barrier around the island had dissipated. They had been heading to the source, but it seemed that they weren't needed. Good. Shion hadn't really wanted to deal with it anyway. Soon both of them eagerly went back to what they were set to do, getting out off that gods-forsaken place (Corvenius, she learned later) on a fishing boat bound for Helena. Giatsu was a wonderful companion. Once on the Abelese shores they split ways, he to the east and she to Abel. After a much-deserved murdering of the pedophilic son of a whore that was her target, she returned to Selene.

Her welcomes home had never been particularly warm, but the side-long looks and mutters of the ki-manipulating dud having something unique tipped her off that they all knew something she didn't. It was only a matter of asking her squad what the venomous stares were about after that. At this point, her nerves were grated beyond belief. Her Sisters, those gifted little jerks, were going to whisper about her having a dress from her family when all of them could teleport and make arrows out of nothingness and _FLY?!_ Even more annoying, even her _squad_ hadn't wanted to tell her what was going on. It took at least three threats of scratching out eyes and ripping out weaves instead of one to get her what she wanted.

Squads, Sisters, and overall people just weren't were they were supposed to be.

Frustrated in more ways than one, on edge from her Sister's gazes and more desperate than ever to pay her dues and leave, Shion continued life on the island, waiting for the time when she could see Sebastian and Iri.

It was a day and a half after this that word began to spread of a male headhunting assassins - especially those of Selene. He could take on a squad and survive into the night, could track them down and murder them in their sleep, and had a couple of times already. Rumors were obviously fierce around the island for lack of anything to do, Shion thought at the time. They should have just started doing each other. That's what they usually did, yet not this time; Powerful an enemy was this, and it just needed to be talked about. The Daimah didn't particularly care about this heathenistic man until she heard something that made her blood run cold. His means of delivering punishment was the Selene art.

It was a travesty. Something unheard of in hundreds of years. A male? Knowing the art that was their very means of survival? Blasphemy! His name quickly rose to that of the highest headhunt charts in the training halls, bribes to allies made to do any trickery possible to capture him. Dread was the woman who would have to hunt this man down alone, or the squad sent to capture him. Further was the dread that filled the bottom of Shion's stomach when she realized this man's name could only be Sebastian the "Wetboy".

The rest of the island hadn't learned his name by that point, and that was her only solace. She had to do her best to stay away from him, to seem distanced from the whole affair, lest she be put under suspicion. It worked for almost a year. That year, regretfully, was long enough for a Selene ally to capture her husband by way of kidnapping her daughter and Shion, fully aware of what she would have to do, was assigned to the task of murdering the male menace. She had planned to show up with her squad, let them speak to the contact while she got her husband and daughter out, and then claim that he had escaped while they spoke. The Fates had other plans.

The Fates were cruel cunts that liked to see her suffer in her eyes. When she went to break her husband out, the fatass that had captured him spoke, in detail, about how completely he had dominated her daughter. All three of the Sisters were in complete shock, of course. They despised men for the most part, but one of the few they had trusted defiled a female. That, in itself, gave Shion a palpable reason to murder the man, which she immediately tried to do. She almost ripped the man's heart out of his chest. Not because she held back, of course, but because she couldn't actually get to his heart through his ribs. She enjoyed beating the man to a pulp, even enjoyed the surprised faces of her Sisters as she demanded that she be allowed to talk to Sebastian.

"Why?"

Shion stood straight in that moment, looking every bit the regal Lady she had been born to be. A clawed finger pointed at their contact. "Everyone, even this sentient penis, deserves a second chance. Everyone deserves clemency at least once. I don't want to give him that. I want to rip out his intestines and let him die of shock for raping my Iri. But he-"

She had revelled in the fact that he immediately voided his second chance. "The same I'll do to you, you inhuman slut!"

Shion feigned an exasperated sigh, sincerely delighting in the sound of his skull wetly crunching under her heel. "And you know who deserves them based on their actions. See? He obviously didn't deserve it." She explained her reasoning calmly even as her squad was poised to attack her. She knew she had slipped information she shouldn't have. The moment wasn't exactly the beginning of her fall from assassin grace...but it was a fairly annoying part of it. To be frank she didn't enjoy the fight that proceeded with her sisters, nor the mad dash out of Alberian territory back to the cottage with her family. Even less was her joy when five squads of her Sisters were waiting for Sebastian to return, swarming and killing him on site. As she ran she did enjoy watching him in action, seeing him take down four Sisters in the mere three minutes she needed to get away and out of sight with Iri.

She hated herself for it, but Shion saved herself to save Iri. Weeks of hiding in any nook and cranny they could find existing but not living. The pair were broken now. It went without saying that someone not caring for their own life would eventually get sloppy with it. Mother and daughter were caught three months after Sebastian's death, struggling only weakly until Shion's former Sisters separated her from her baby girl. She begged them not to hurt Iri, just to give her to a family on the mainland...to not have her join the Sisterhood. Not to kill her only daughter. Her requests were met with iron-willed silence. No word of Iri or her well-being reached Shion's ears then, and still hadn't, to much heartbreak.


	4. Days in the Sun

Shion was whisked away to a room where Khali could have her way with getting information out of the "traitor". To find out who else Shion had taught. They were convinced that she was teaching all of the so-called "wetboys" the Selene art. She didn't break once in the month she was held there. _Hells_ , she wanted to. Desperately. If she broke, Khali promised, she would be able to see her daughter again. She would be free to enter the Sisterhood, albeit at a lower capacity than she previously was. The temptation was part of the torture, and it was a very effective one for most. But unfortunately, Shion knew. If she gave in, that was the end. Khali would have gotten what she needed and silenced the Daimah where she lay strapped to a table. Blind, cold, deprived of the senses that were a vital part of her being. Deprived of everything, really. Everything aside from her mind.

And so she thought. First of loss, because she knew her baby to be dead. She tried not to think too hard about it. If she did, she would cry, and Khali would most definitely use that against her. So instead she thought of freedom. How to escape an island filled with master huntresses? She could use the catacombs, but they would be well-guarded. She'd have to go to the Men's town and seek refuge there. They wouldn't like her there, probably. They very well may lynch her - or try to. Escaping a horde of men could be a lot of fun, now that she was thinking about it, even if their brains were usually just mush surrounded by the bedrock of their skulls. How she'd even breached through Sebastian's was a mystery to-

Oh gods, of course. She was so _stupid_! Lightly she had pulled on the leather straps holding her wrists. The wrist holds seemed to be leather buckle straps for quick adjustments, with metal for the table she lay on. No, it was too nice to call it a "table". It was a slab, nice and simple, with leather bits along temperature-sensitive parts of her body; Her feet, back of her head and over the ears, and right across her stomach. In hindsight, she probably had more time than she realized she did to enact her plan. Everyone thought she was a dud in every field possible. To an extent, they were right.

What none of those jerks realized was that she had a brain in her blonde head. No, she didn't use it as often as she should. She was a beast! Impulse was her master. Still, Gods damn it, she exercised it when she _needed_ to. It had kept Iri from getting caught for at least three months, it had kept her marriage hidden from her Sister's eyes. It would get her out of this mess. With all of her body strength she strained against the leather on each place. From what she could tell of the smell, the leather was thick, but old. It had only been recently oiled due to her imprisonment. She'd be able to stretch it. Hopefully crack it. And once one of those things happened in each strap, she would gather all of the power she needed.

It had taken her awhile. About ten minutes per strap, to be precise, but at least the work was done. By the time it was finished, the woman was sweating bullets. She couldn't rest yet, however. Here was where the important bit, the most sensitive bit, came in. With slow movement and much muscle strain, Shion pulled her hands out from her wrist straps one at a time. If she were a normal human, or even a normal Daimah, she would have had to dislocate her thumbs to do it. The only thing she had on her side was that most of the joints in her hands were doubled.

That made things easy...er than they should have been, but she wasn't in the clear yet. First she had to escape the room. A quick survey showed her that the walls were all warded (because of _course_ they were), there were no splinters in the wards or the walls themselves, and that the door was closed. From experience, Shion knew the door hinges to be greased; Khali herself had come in and out of the room several times without making a noise. Shion also knew that if the door opened, the magical seal would be broken. All she had to do was get out into the hallway.

That proved, to her shock, to be easy. There were no sentries outside the door, nor did she see or feel any along the hallway. There were some near the end of the cave mouth the dungeon called its entrance. Shion wasn't planning on going that way, however. She was going to go through the wall.

She could have done this by using ki as a reactionary measure. That, though, would require she be attacked, and she was going for as little a fuss as possible. She didn't know how to use psychic means to teleport, so that was out. The only thing she had at her disposal was a couple of Earth spells, and if there was one thing almost all of the Sisters didn't really use, it was magic. There were a couple, of course, much more powerful than her to boot. But by the time they felt the zeon pooling within the Daimah, they wouldn't be able to react. Those sisters were old and on teaching duty. There was one that was young and capable, but she lived on the other side of the island. That gave her plenty of time. With a deep breath and a death wish, Shion cast the spell and ran as fast as she could to an opposite wall, phasing through it with all of the grace of a cannonball.

She had forgotten to account for the fact that the island was staggered in levels, and that the prison was built higher than residences for this exact reason. It would have mattered more if the outposts around the prison weren't warded from all supernatural means.

But they were.

Which meant that, with her feline-esque blood, she landed on her feet atop a very populated outpost, not phasing through it like she was hoping she would. A loud, dull thud resonated through the roof. Before she knew what she was doing her body reacted for her, making her feet fly through streets as fast as she could take them, dodging darts and Sisters powers alike (not to mention Sisters themselves). Near the edge of the island she lost her footing on a loose pebble on the lip of the island, gravity pushing her towards the ragged cliffs and, hopefully, her doom.


	5. Soaked and Surly

For the first time in several years, the Fates had decided to take pity on her. She didn't land in the water initially, or a single rock face of the island - the drop was usually very jagged, but she was still going through solid stuff. Hells, even if she was sort of suicidal, pummeling was not the way she would want to die. All she could imagine was her body falling weakly into the water, killing her on impact and her body being eaten by fish. It made her angry. She was above sharks and all the delicious little minnows in the food chain! They weren't allowed to have her. Full of spite for that uppity marine life, Shion activated a separate Earth spell near the base of the island to move some minerals and slow her fall significantly. The move took some timing, some precision, and a little bit of forlorn hope, but she was able to pull it off.

Even if she had to dispell the other power first.

And crack several ribs as she bounced off of a jutting cliff face.

What _mattered_ was that when she hit the water, she didn't break any limbs. After that it was a matter of rubbing it in the fishes' collective faces that there would be no cat meal for them today, so with the kindest voice and a little Essence magic, she asked some sea life to help her swim to the nearest port. It hadn't taken much effort at all. 'Cause she was dominant. _DUH_.

Sandy (the dolphin servant) and her pod were nice enough to swim her to the largest "boat home" nearby. For her purposes, that had been Chaville. She wasn't going to complain at that choice; Big cities meant more places to hide, and if there was one thing she needed right now, it was a hidey-hole. She could count at least three that she had in that lively city. Maybe she could even call on a couple of her friends in the circus to let her crash at their place. It would be like a friendly, assassin-filled slumber party!

Except her friends always made her sit on pillows and drink tea, and it there was one thing she hated doing, it was sitting still for an elongated period of time. It wasn't as if she couldn't do it. She just didn't _like_ it. It was boring. The Daimah sighed, the breath reminding her lovingly of her broken ribs. If she couldn't find a healer or just heal herself when she got to town, she would have a very boring time on her own. She would have done it herself then and there, but then she would have had to drop the spell she was using to talk to the fish.

She would rather suffer for several hours in the water on the back of a squeaky-skinned animal than let the Fates take hold of where she would be dropped off. That collection of power-mad twats could scissor the propulsion blades of the burning La Dama for all she cared. They might just be more appealing after that, anyway. That was why she kept her spell on course, kept her clawed fingers firmly locked together on the fin of Sandy, and kept her breathing as slow and rhythmic as she could keep it with waters and rolling muscles bumping her in the torso every couple of seconds. It took everything in her not to pass out in transit.

But Khali had done worse than this. If she could live through Khali, she would live through anything. Sure, every pain was very clear in her body (and would be for the rest of her life, she was sure), but she could be dead. Death...now wasn't that a lovely thought…?

Around moon's zenith was when Shion finally made landfall. Captains and their crews were firmly settled in for the night, watches perched on the sterns of top-decks while the porter dozed peacefully in an old wooden rocking chair, feet propped up on his podium. Shion dragged herself onto the wharf with a series of pathetic grunts as seawater poured out of her dress. If she never saw the ocean again, she would be delighted. What was not delighting was the slow, crisp breeze that came off the waves in gentle gusts. _That_ was bone-chilling to the thoroughly-soaked woman. It was like the air itself was wanting to keep her guessing who was around the corner. Calm, quiet nights always put her on edge in general, but being damaged and on the run gave everything a haunted feeling. No person, place or thing was safe.

Not anymore.

Despising existence more and more with each step, she headed to the nearest inn. Instead of going inside, however, she slinked in the shadows to the back of the inn, sitting on the lip of a small planter by the back door. She couldn't walk in looking like a drowned cat, even if that's what she was. Instead she sat, thinking, drying, and accumulating zeon, and with that time she mentally sorted the events that had brought her to a dark place with only forget-me-nots and baby's breath stuck in a planter to keep her company.

After an hour and a half of mourning and another half an hour making sure there was no-one trying to stab her as she did, she was able to dredge up enough power to heal her cracked ribs, dehydrated skin, and bruised muscles. By that time she was at least somewhat dry (though no less salty) and felt it safe to sneak her way into the inn. For her, that part wasn't hard. Nor was finding the room with a lone man in his bed. It wasn't even hard to convince said man that she would make the random stay worth his while (poor man couldn't see the psionics coming if they slapped him across the face). It was trying to sleep afterwards.

She knew that the Sisters would catch wind of her survival soon. They were always quick on gathering information. The woman knew that, especially for a traitor withholding information about the island's secrets, they would go all-out. There wasn't usually too many people of their own scattered, but there were high concentrations of them in ports that were near the unmapped monstrosity - Chaville happened to be the closest. That was fine. All she had to do was survive long enough to get onto a clipper into a place where the sea wasn't a place she could onto land from.

Like, oh, Phaion Ein Saimon. There was a major plate there, so that very well could mess with her plans, but she had a plethora of hideouts there that she could lay low in until she could make it to somewhere less populated with her kind. Hells, maybe she'd run and join Tolgarini. They seemed to like people with powers, and though hers were weak, she had them. She'd be a goddess. A beautiful, safe-ish, Selene-immune goddess amongst men and beasts alike. After a bit of mental back and forth she decided that was probably the best bet for her right about now and, only half as hopeful that she was going to get killed in her sleep, she rolled over and cuddled with her companion for the night.


	6. The Second Shoe Drops

Of.

 _Freaking._

 _ **COURSE.**_

It had been a wonderful day when she woke from her slumber and without her bed partner. She had felt and heard him leaving once the sun rose, and guilt had swelled in the poor guy's chest. Huh. He probably had a wife or some lady he was courting and thought he'd picked Shion up while he was drunk. In all reality, it could have been possible. She had smelled liquor on his breath when she snuck in last night.

Oh well, it hadn't been her problem. She had plenty of those already, she didn't need to add his to her list. She'd given him a slow, even sleep in return for her stay. That was enough of a payment. What had woke her later in the day, however, was the innkeeper's wife walking in to clean the sheets and seeing her naked and stretching, her tail and ears completely obvious to the woman.

The innkeeper's wife screamed. Shion took that as a hint and, as the poor matron ran out the door, she scooped up her clothes. Slip on the dress, pull up the stockings, slip on the shoes while slipping on the sleeves. Hurry, hurry, _hurry_. This was a race now. Against time, against her presence being confirmed, against Sisters in town. A scream like that would have been heard, and rumor of the cat/monster woman would most definitely spread quickly. If she was part of any _normal_ assassin organization, the information about her escape may have taken a day or two, especially over water.

Her resourceful, wealthy, bitch-filled family would have had all of the juicy details arriving here sometime early this morning. Only slightly salty now, the woman hopped out the second story window. Time to play Curs and Inquisition~!

Shion stole herself onto the streets of Gabriel, refreshed and as beautiful as possible now that she didn't smell like the entirety of a fishmonger's alley and look like a back-alley street mongrel. Confidence pooled around her, draping her features like a veil. She could out-run _any_ one in these crowded streets. Chaville was a lively city, but the architecture could be confusing if one went anywhere but the main areas. And if one tried to wander into back alleys or between the cute little courtyards that lay behind residents…

There was a pleasant plethora of perils. Night was a monster on its own, of course; The Divine Hand wandered the streets, those sneaky devils, always keeping her kind on their toes, not to mention the city guard and anyone else that may be passing through. Likewise, the day brought its own dangers. Subtle in nature, cruel in deliverance, nigh untraceable in the deceptive sunshine. Night was a lady of refined but expected taste; Day was a known yet unpredictable Lord, sometimes kind, sometimes demanding sacrifices.

' _I am going to kill someone if Day tries to get me killed,'_ was the unbidden thought that rose to the front of her thoughts as she calmly strode towards the Tower. Day and her were usually good friends - Shion could flow through a crowd the way a Jenny worked a body - but every once and awhile they had issues.

The day proved to be a problematic one when she caught the scent of her kind not too far from the glass elevator of her destination: Chaville Tower. A staple in any city worth its salt, the spire was a hub for trade all over the world.

Except the Empire, those elitist jerks. "Heresy", they called any sort of magic, and if a hub of the most convenient travel popping up overnight wasn't magic, then what was? Gold eyes watched through panes of glass as sky-boats ( _Airships Shion, Airships_ ) glided in the sky. Most had various-colored floats and circled calmly several stories above her, probably waiting for permission to land on the disc that protruded near the top in a plate-like arrangement. That comparison was probably why that landing was called The Plate, now that she thought about it. Perhaps it was also because all people from all castes walked amongst the Plate, waiting to be served up to airships hungry maws?

So many thoughts and revelations! Her face split into a canary-eating grin. Sebastian would have been proud of her.

Pride from the dearly departed aside, the Daimah's dainty nose twitched as she sweet-talked her way onto the upward-bound elevator. Her natural instinct had lead her to think it was nothing. It was just the natural scent of a Sister, as most of them smelled of the Selenium flowers that gave her home its name. Familiarity quickly turned into a red flag, that red flag turning to a controlled panic. Where was is coming from? She was about to be prone and in full view of anyone watching the elevator, and the micro-economy that busied itself around the base of the Tower would be able to hide anyone in the small crowd waiting for their turn to go up. Reflex yet again acted for her, making her pull in the nearest person in the small space for a very hot kiss.

Surprised sputters erupted from the gentleman that she had grabbed, her hands instantly wandering inside his jacket and up his chest. The whole frilly ensemble was akin to something out of one of those pretentious little fencing schools. He even wore one of the toys on his hip! Perfect. He probably hadn't gotten laid in at least a year with that response or those clothes, so that should make things easy.

" **Just keep your head on straight and your pants buckled and we won't have any problems, Lordling,"** Shion purred into the man's ear as she dragged her nails lightly along his chest. " **We can keep this between us, right? What's a little fun while we have time to kill?"**

Thankfully, true to his gender, the man didn't pull away. Strangely, he didn't get closer, either. His eyes were scanning her face and, more of her concern, her ears. Minutes passed. He kept her body shielded while they rose, standing stoney and weary, as the crowd was soon out of sight. Still, he stood. He didn't even move when the other passengers began to shift uncomfortably in place, having finally realized what was going on behind them. She despised the wait but was a good girl and did it anyway.

" **It isn't wise to take coin from drunk men,"** the man finally said to her actual ear. Red Flag Numero Uno. " **Nor is it wise to blatantly show your ears and tail."**

It took everything in her not to show how cold her blood ran at those words. There were people who knew of her kind, but most of those people weren't nice at all. There was Tolgarini, who accepted creatures like she, the Illmora she so missed, and a few little havens around the Commerce Coast. Now, he could simply be from one of those places-

" **The most foolish,"** the man whispered as she felt iron encircle the wrist closest to his belt, " **Was sneaking into the bed of an Inquisitor."**


	7. A Plate-Full of Drama

Over her life, Shion had been in several tight spots. There was the time she was in the middle of a guildwar and she had taken what was questionably the wrong side; The time that she found a sect of Crows hiding and had to work very, very hard to convince them she hadn't seen anything and that she wasn't a threat; Several times in which she'd ended up on the bad side of the Big Bad Inquisition, of course. One specific time had been one of the eraser squads that had been roaming through the town that she happened to be in.

The amount of dancing around the borders of the village and hiding she had done had been mentally taxing. Those people were so overpowering...she had fled as soon as she possibly could.

This guy, on the other hand, she _knew_ wasn't on the same level. She was able to pick into this "Inquisitor's" brain the way a child turned on the waterworks for candy. Unfortunately for him, she knew the handcuffs only worked if both of the cuffs were on her wrists. So she had time to convince this little sapling that the mistake he was making was one he probably wouldn't survive. Her objective had been fulfilled - she had escaped confirmation of her presence in this elevator with the help of this man. She couldn't care less what happened to him from here.

" **Oh, is that what you are?"** Eyebrows rose in tandem with widening eyes, an impressed smirk appearing on her face. " **I couldn't tell from the handcuffs or the domineering attitude. You holy types are all very kinky, aren't you?"** Her free hand spread wide over his stomach as she made the mental link. The instant she did, his body began to move, a meaty fist clamping down on her free wrist.

Well. He was much better at what he did when he was actually awake to resist it. Too bad for him she was already in his head. She sent him intense feelings of sorrow and regret, so intense that he wouldn't be able to focus on the beautiful disaster in front of him. Shion giggled as she felt him attempt to resist, but his mental defenses were so pathetic that she was surprised that he was even an Inquisitor at all. She could feel he had immense potential in the spiritual area - so much so that it had probably earned him his place.

Too bad he'd never met a lovely lady like herself before. He might be a little more prepared for the real world if he had.

Within seconds the man bowed his head, shoulders shaking and eyes screwed shut. Tears rippled down his face with such vigor that it was a synch to grab the key from his bag, unlock herself, pocket the cuffs and sigh at him. She saw in his mind that he was a good man, even if he was sorely misguided, but she couldn't let go of him until she was far away enough away.

The sobbing man shielding a woman that he had been scandalously close to made the rest of the trip awkward, to say the least. To this day it was one of the few times in her life that Shion actually felt a modicum of shame for her actions, even if they had kept her from being killed.

Eventually the group made it to the Plate. All hastily exited the elevator aside from the Inquisitor, who solemnly shambled into the crowd, objective forgotten. Playtime over, Shion made it her goal to get on whichever airship would take her to Phaion and out of the eyes of her Sisters for, hopefully, the rest of her life. She'd be happy if she never saw another raging lesbian with a knife again in her-

Oh, that was a knife on the base of her spinal cord. That could mean only _one_ muffin-eating thing. Any moment now something like, 'I'm going to get so much credit for catching you' was going to escape the girl's lips and Shion would have to cause a scene and then the ENTIRE plate would be thrown into chaos with the chase.

Oops. She was talking.

" **...wants you dead more than our Matron does,"** said what sounded to be Teresa, ex-girlfriend of Tiffany's squadmate Alissa. This girl liked thinking she was good because she could hide, but hiding didn't do all of the work for you, and Shion knew that. Teresa, along with being horrible at strip poker, was cocky. To demonstrate, if Teresa had been looking down, she would see Shion's hands slowly creeping towards the other's wrist to dig in nails and make the stiletto drop from her grip. See the subtle tensing of her leg muscles, winding and ready to spring away at the slightest movement of the knife.

"You never got to hear what happened to me, did you? Or do you even want to?" Shion snorted lightly. Her moment was soon. She just had to wait for the other two Sisters waiting in the crowd to approach to throw them all off. Shion resumed her steps, knowing that Teresa would follow her, a shadow darkest in the light of day. "I don't think this is going to work out."

Shion's wrists flicked, easily grabbing the stiletto and redirecting it towards one of the Sisters before hunkering down and throwing Teresa over her shoulder. The dull thump of bodies hitting each other echoed through her sensitive ears as she bounded forward, heading into the crowd and sprinting as fast as she could.

The smell of lemon and roses followed her, a wall of smoke hiding her escape from the suddenly confused crowd and the definitely-angry assassins. She ran. Then she jogged. Finally she walked, hood up. She had to move. Quickly.

Hurry.

 _Hurry._

 _ **Hurry.**_

The wind seemed to carry her through the crowds, her legs moving in different directions than her mind. How did they find her? She knew she smelled them, but she _knew_ she hadn't been spotted on the way up. She had the best cover, the easiest routes to the Tower, and she was careful. Gods damn it, she had been so _careful!_ They couldn't have spotted her below. Or…

Or maybe they hadn't had to spot her on the ground. Messenger pigeons could find Towers easily...and they would know she'd want to leave the area as fast as she could. They knew she would come to the Tower.

And that was why she smelled the flowers while she was in the elevator. They had come up before her, waiting for her to get here. Fucking Matron for knowing her so well! Now what was she supposed to do? It wasn't as if she could jump off of the Tower. She couldn't go back to the elevators either; Those girls would be stupid if they left the only exit point for a fleeing target. Her only chance was to get onto an airship, but would any let her on? Bounty boards would have her face by now, and officials kept those records all over the Plate-

Lost in slight panic and thoughts only of escape, Shion didn't notice the red-headed woman approach. Nor did she hear the question that seemed to be asked at least three or four times before a gloved hand laid itself gently on her shoulder. Shocked yellow eyes met kindly blue ones, bangs framing a kind face.

" **You look like you're needing to get somewhere fast,"** The woman noted with a smile, eyes flicking over Shion's shoulder for the briefest of moments. " **...and that you don't care where that somewhere is. Follow me, we'll get you out of here."**


	8. Look Into the Future: Shion Goes Home

" **God, we're really doing this."**

Slitted eyes slid over to the man standing beside her, the hard lines around her mouth softening just a touch as she did. She could see that his expression matched hers: Repressed anger, determination and bloodlust coursed through those facial scars he'd acquired while he was gone, hate for Selene's leader palpable. Fates, probably for Selene in general, if she was reading him correctly. It made sense. Raised in a Barbarian's Paradise, where honorable battle was expected and knowing Selene women fought by stabbing a man mid-coitus, feeling that hatred probably came to him as easily as Darkness magic did.

Of course Shion hated it, too. What they did to her parents; Who they'd made her kill for initiation; For being so damned determined to ruin her life. Sebastian had left the Barbarian's Paradise because the Barbarians did mercenary work for a living: It was why he travelled so often. He hadn't left because he hated it or its people.

Their reasons for hating Selene were different in almost all ways. ' _Almost_ ' was the key word, however; their hearts beat as one when it came to their daughter, her well-being, and her current situation.

Her eyes slid back to their previous position, the smallest of smirks appearing on her face. Yes, her hatred stemmed from other things. She couldn't hate her Sisters for killing her husband or daughter, fortunately. Both of them, Fates be kind, were alive, even if they were worse for wear.

And Shion was going to make the Alaxia, the Sylvain bitch who'd taken **her** daughter, feel what she had made Shion's family feel ten times over. Of course she'd die for taking Iri, but Alaxia would have to live just a bit longer than she should so she could be consumed by the sea. Last, but not most importantly of all, Alaxia would stare straight into Shion's eyes as Shion sliced, tore and ripped out every tendon responsible for movement before said consuming.

It was safe to say Shion wasn't happy. Yet she was, ironically, the happiest she had been in a very long time. Funny how revenge did that to a person.

Now that she was planning cold-blooded murder though, maybe she would rip out Alaxia's jugular with her teeth. That would certainly attract sharks to her remains when Shion dangled her bleeding body in the water as bait.

Absently, her hand reached out for her mate's and their fingers laced together, his hand giving hers a soft squeeze. The smirk on her face grew to a playful smile. "What, you aren't regretting storming an island full of Assassins who once ripped you - **literally** \- and your family - _metaphorically_ \- apart, tortured the love of your life and stole your daughter, are you?" Her head then tilted to her left, the gesture enough to turn Sebastian's gaze towards her. She could see his eyes soften a touch as they passed over her face and towards a plethora of _definitely not_ snarky, out-spoken, powerful and beloved figures. "Especially when we brought such a motley crew of friends!"

" **We'll see how good they are,** " was her mage-husband's only response, eliciting a puff of cinnamon-scented smoke from her immediate left. Oh Giatsu, her second love, always so giving and willing to help her see her life through to its destiny. Originally the smoke bender had reservations about working with Sebastian.

Understandable, to say the least. Usually husbands and their wives' new boyfriends didn't get along all that well. To Giatsu's discovery, however, Sebastian was completely supportive of how Shion saw the air bender. What had he said again? Oh yeah: " **Hell, I love this woman, but sometimes you have to let her like who she likes. I can't stay chained to a bed for a day and a half again."**

To which Giatsu and Sebastian had a long and hilarious talk about various topics, some of which being how...energetic Shion was with her affection.

But back on point, there was an island to take over. "I don't think the leader has any idea we're coming since we've kept off of their radar. I'd suggest we either go in through one of the staircases built into the island or we scale the outside of the island with climbing gear."

This was met with several stares and glances back and forth. Oh, right, almost everyone could fly except for her and Sebastian.

Her eyes narrowed in thought. Or could he...?

"Before you start," she quickly continued, wishing the Duk'zarist teen capable of magical horrors would keep that smug look off her face, "They know we were airborne before, and they'll be keeping their eyes out for flying targets. We're going to want to keep this as non-magical," Shion's lips thinned as her narrow eyes landed on the Ja'yan with bat wings, "and non- _aerial_ as possible."

The smirking teen's hand rose slowly, smugness growing in proportion to her hand's height. Shion sighed, clicking her tongue as Shiek opened her knowledge-wielding mouth. " **Counterpoint: I can literally do all forms of magic. I can just pop us close to where your daughter is and we can run like hell."**

Shion's face turned dead-pan as a sigh escaped her lips. Giatsu was nodding and signing, _I'll cover us with smoke, she can do her juju shit from inside_.

"Ok, fine, you guys want to pop in? We can pop in. Just know that we want to be as close to the training hall as possible, because that's where Alaxia and the Executioner are. We won't have a lot of reaction time, the building is warded inside, and they don't call Khali the fucking _**Executioner**_ for nothing."

Shiek snorted. " **Wards. Like I care about wards."**

Turning to share in the ridiculous moment with Sebastian, she found him adorned in a happy smile. " **I changed my mind,"** he cheerfully chirped, " **I think we'll do just fine."**

"Fates be cursed," Shion muttered under her breath, shaking her head. Louder, she added, "Let's just get this over with."


End file.
